2014
by GarryxMrChairFan
Summary: Another new year has come and Arthur Kirkland has two resolutions: make friends with his new roommate, and ask out that cute blond from his health class the previous semester. How was he to know they'd be the same person? This was going to be harder than he thought. USUK, OOC, Human!University!AU. Updates MONTHLY.
1. New Year, New Room

**Chapter One**

**_New Year, New Room_**

The letter in his hand crunched slightly as he gripped it tightly, emerald green eyes running quickly over its contents as thick dark eyebrows drew together with each new word. An exasperated frown had etched its way onto his face as he finished reading.

"What the fucking actual bloody hell?" Arthur Kirkland clenched the notice in his hand harshly, crumbling it partially as he stormed back into his home with the rest of the mail, having forgotten to put his hood back up and so allowing the light drizzle of rain to glue his pale blond hair to his forehead, dripping down his cheeks as he made his way to the kitchen where his mother was supposedly preparing dinner.

He tossed the bills on the table and the junk mail into the rubbish bin, the following muted thud causing his mother to glance over at him. "What's up, Artie? Ya look kinda pissed."

Arthur refrained from sighing deeply at his mother's butchery of his English language. Amelia Kirkland was actually about as American as one could get, with her golden blonde hair curling invitingly around her chin, a little stray strand standing up proudly. Her blue eyes twinkled mischievously behind her thin blue framed spectacles. She was tanned and tall, and admittedly quite well-endowed, with the physique of a Hollywood actress who liked to dress in American flag-print tees and Daisy Duke's, either barefoot or in her favorite pair of Stetsons.

She wasn't his biological mother, of course, and truth be told, she acted more like the father he'd never gotten to know. He loved her dearly, no doubt, but she was definitely more eccentric than either him or his actual mother could stand for more than about five minutes at a time. How Alice Kirkland – stuck up, no-nonsense, grounded, proper Englishwoman that she was – had fallen so madly in love with the bubbly, outgoing, strong-headed American lass, he'd never quite understand.

The young Briton huffed anyway, rolling his eyes in disbelief. "I just got a notice from the university that they're basically kicking me out of the room I currently reside in and into another, due to space issues." He leered down at the meek paper still clutched in his fist. "By Friday of this week, no later."

Amelia cocked an eyebrow, pursing her lips as she continued slicing whatever vegetable was on the cutting board. "And they decided to tell ya the…" She paused, thinking for a moment. "… the Wednesday before?" She snorted. "Talk about a poor heads up, dude!"

"Indeed," Arthur muttered, shaking himself out of his jacket and heading up the stairs to his room. "Mum's going to be furious with them," he continued, letting his voice carry back to downstairs to the kitchen to Amelia as he entered his room. "She'll want to help move my things and in turn have to take off work."

"Yeah, I'm not lookin' forward to _that _bitch-fest." Arthur could hear his step-mum's eyes roll. "Ya sure ya can't call 'em up or somethin' and ask 'em about stayin'? Why're they bootin' ya anyways?"

Arthur shrugged before remembering they were not in the same room. "I have no idea," he replied, slipping out of his shoes and tossing the letter onto his desk, flopping down on his bed. "According to them, though, there are 'space issues', whatever the bloody hell _that _means." He rolled over from his back to his knees, grabbing his bag with a sigh and rummaging for his books. "I may give Kiku a call and see if he knows anything more specific or something."

"Aighty, then," he heard her call. "Dinner'll be ready soon-ish!"

The young blond chuckled to himself; "soon-ish" was Amelia-speak for "about an hour or so – whenever Alice gets home", so he grabbed the Richard Castle novel he was currently reading – _Frozen Heat _– and pulled out his phone, unlocking it and deciding to FaceTime his soon-to-be ex-roommate.

Soon enough, the dark head and deep eyes of Kiku Honda, Resident Advisor of the fourth floor of their dormitory were in front of him. "Konichiwa, Arthur-san," he greeted, a small smile on his face. "How was your holiday break?"

Kiku Honda was the epitome of Japanese stereotype: dark chocolate hair framed his pale face, intense honey-colored eyes that observed quietly from the sidelines. He was short compared to most of his friends, but always held himself straight and proud. Kiku kept to himself, was always polite and worried for his friends, and liked anime and manga and was constantly away at cosplay conventions if he wasn't pouring over his studies.

He was kind and gentle, and Arthur had had a bit of a crush on him when they'd first become acquainted. At the time, Kiku had already been in a steady long-term relationship with a Greek boy he'd been friends with for as long as he'd been in America, so Arthur accepted that and quickly moved on, realizing that they made better friends anyway. Besides, there was this really cute blond that had been in his required health class the previous semester that still would not leave his thoughts, and he felt less awkward fantasizing about him than his roommate – still awkward, but less than with Kiku _right in the same room every day. _

Arthur forced those thoughts from his mind and returned his friend's smile with a tired one of his own. "Good day to you, Kiku. My holiday was adequate. My older brothers decided to remain in the UK this year, so I only had to deal with Peter." He shook his head in exasperation. "I swear, if it weren't for Amelia I don't know if I would even be alive right now."

Kiku chuckled. "Sounds like fun, Arthur-san. Mine was quiet for the most part. Heracles took me out a couple of times for dinner, but we remained indoors and watched Christmas specials with Feli and Ludwig most of the time." He paused, chuckling once more. "Well, _I _watched; Heracles napped."

"And how are they, Feli and Ludwig?"

"Still as impossibly in love as they always have been," he replied softly and Arthur could see him moving around his room, shuffling through his things. "But I doubt you called to talk about them. Is there anything you needed, Arthur-san?"

Arthur shifted himself, moving his book that he'd been skimming as they conversed to the foot of his bed and stretching out on his stomach, setting the phone next to his novel. "Actually, I wanted to ask if you knew any more on why I'm being moved rooms for the new semester," he informed, reaching for the crumpled letter. "I received this notice saying that I need to move due to 'space issues' by Friday, but they didn't even have the decency to give me adequate notice."

"Oh, yes," Kiku murmured, shuffling through some of his papers as well. "This is actually more personal than they could say, I suppose. My older half-brother Yao is transferring to the university and requested that he get to room with me, for convenience; he is not as fluent in English as I, so this is a special circumstance." Kiku looked extremely apologetic. "I'm sorry, Arthur-san. I didn't know about this until yesterday. Yao wanted to surprise me."

Arthur exhaled a long breath and pinched his nose. "I don't hold anything against you, Kiku," he reassured. "I simply wish they'd let me have more time. Making me move by Friday seems a bit rushed, even if the new semester is Monday."

"I agree, but Yao also will start then, and he needs to have a room."

"No, I understand." Arthur smiled once again at his friend. "I'll be up there either sometime tomorrow or Friday to gather my things together, then."

"What room are they moving you to?"

Arthur glanced through the notice once again. "Let's see. Room 704, it says." He looked at Kiku. "Do you know who's staying in that one?"

The Japanese boy leaned back in his chair, a look of concentration coming over his features. "Hm. I believe that is Alfred's room. Alfred Jones. He's a young American man double-majoring in Physics and Aeronautics." Kiku appeared thoughtful for a moment. "I believe he wants to be an astronaut, but is doubtful he'd get chosen and is looking to either work for NASA as an aerospace engineer or be a teacher."

Arthur was impressed at the lad's dreams. He himself was majoring in the English department, intent on becoming a professor for creative writing or Shakespearian literature. He really wanted to be an author, as any good English major seemed to desire becoming, but also wanted a fallback should that dream never come to fruition. At least he and his new roommate would have one thing in common in studying in education.

"Well, he sounds like he has his life in order for the most part," Arthur commented eventually. "I can't imagine rooming with a git that doesn't want to actually do something with his life."

Kiku laughed. "Yes, Alfred-san is very conscious of his future." His head tilted slightly in contemplation. "You could almost say he has a bit of a hero complex, as well. He wants to move into the future at full speed while saving as many as he can, whether through justice or education or in exploring new worlds to inhabit."

Arthur snorted. "'New worlds to inhabit'? Who is he, Captain Kirk?"

The Japanese boy simply smiled. "He likes to think of himself as Captain America, actually. A hero."

The young Englishman sighed in defeat. "Great. Another all-American to put up with," he grumbled. "I get enough of that from Amelia. In fact, he sounds exactly like Amelia. She's got a hero complex, too."

"I resemble that remark!"

Arthur started and glared up at the American woman giggling in his doorway. "Bloody hell, woman!" he exclaimed, holding his chest as his heartbeat returned to normal. Kiku was trying very hard not to laugh too loud. "Haven't you heard of knocking?!"

The American woman shrugged, leaning against the door frame. "It was open, and I live here." Her blue irises sparkled playfully behind her lenses.

The Briton rolled his eyes as he sat up, crossing his legs and closing his novel. He glanced at his phone. "I'm going to have to let you go, Kiku," he sighed.

The boy chuckled again. "Alright, Arthur-san. Have a good night. You too, Amelia-san," he called.

"G'night, Kiku!"

"Talk to you again later, Kiku." Arthur hung up, tossing the phone behind him and locating his laptop for later before turning back to Amelia. "As much as she loves you, mum would have your head for giving me a heart attack."

Amelia pouted briefly before chortling. "Anyways," she chirped, changing the subject and walking into his room. "Alice is home early, but I'd keep away for now." She gazed at him conspiratorially, looking between him and the door and dropping her voice in a theatrical whisper.

Arthur raised a brow. "Why?"

"Francis tried to make another move on her today," she mumbled, frowning. "She almost got suspended for shoving his face in the employee lounge toilet."

The boy snorted. "Fucking serves him right, the frog," he quipped, narrowing his eyes at the thought of his mother's oldest "acquaintance."

Francis Bonnefoy and Alice Kirkland could not be considered friends. At all. But they were also more than enemies, as they did take care of and worry for the other, if only subconsciously. Francis was a Frenchman Arthur's mother had been introduced to in her childhood, and they'd been at each other's throats since. The frog – as both Alice and Arthur called him – had platinum blond hair that fell in waves, with crystal blue eyes like the ocean. He was as perverted as they came, always going on about love and fairness and his hometown of Paris. He'd made several passes at Alice over the years, and apparently still continued to even after her dedication to Amelia.

Quite frankly, he made Arthur sick on a good day and actually feel guilty for doubting his character on a bad one. While Francis was a flirt, he did have a caring heart. He was dedicated to the ones he cared for and loved more than a normal man. Arthur still felt for the man's son, a lovely lad by the name of Matthew Williams – who almost unluckily looked exactly like his father with indigo-violet eyes and a stray looping curl – that was about three years his junior, very quiet and timid who lived in Quebec with his mother. Whatever happened, Arthur was glad Matthew was not like his father in his romancing techniques.

Amelia _hmph_ed in agreement. "Good ol' Allie put him in his place though." She began snickering. "I heard the only thing he could go on about after was his hair!"

"And in that regard, that frog is more of a woman than you or I will ever be, dear."

Arthur and Amelia looked up to see Alice standing at the door, arms crossed, hip jutting out and foot tapping as she looked in on her family.

Alice's hair is where Arthur got his, a pale wheat-yellow that she kept long and tied back in a professional ponytail. A set of delicate thin frames perched on her small nose in front of emerald eyes that matched Arthur's, as well as her thicker brows. She wore top brand blazers and pencil skirts practically every moment of every day, and was severe and stern in the way she ran her house. There was a place for everything and everything was in its place, or heads would be chewed off.

Again, how Amelia managed to get away with half of what she normally did – leaving clothes lying about, chip bags and burger wrappers on the couch and a myriad of other things Arthur would've been murdered for – he'd never know.

"Hello, mum," he greeted as the American in the room squealed and jumped up, immediately attaching herself to her partner. "How was work? Other than Francis."

Alice huffed, struggling out of Amelia's embrace of her shoulders to allow the woman to hug her waist as she commenced running her fingers through the golden hair. "Hello, poppet, love," she said breathlessly. "It was fine, up until he decided it would be a good idea to feel my arse up." Her eyes narrowed, but she continued. "The project is well on its way to completion, and the new quarter looks like it'll be starting off splendidly. How was your day?"

Arthur grabbed the letter once again and held it out to his mother. "Apparently I'm moving rooms for the next semester," he sighed, having resigned himself to the fact. "While this letter is simply the official bollocks they send to everyone, I spoke to Kiku and he informed me that it was in fact a special request due to his brother transferring to the university."

Alice had taken the paper as he summarized, skimming the letter. He watched her face fall into a frown that probably mirrored his from an hour ago. "They want you out by Friday and they only told you today?"

Arthur nodded in skeptical agreement. "According to that letter, yes. The semester starts Monday and Kiku said that they wanted to make sure Yao – his brother – had a room by then."

"They couldn't have given him a different room?"

"Evidently he's not as fluent in the language and he'd feel more comfortable with someone he knows."

"I can understand that," Amelia piped up, having read the letter over Alice's shoulder. "Maddie'd grown up in France and when she moved to the States for college, she requested to room with me because she knew and trusted me." She paused, pursing her lips in reminiscence. "Helps that I spoke French, too, I s'pose," she grinned.

"You speak French?" Arthur inquired, surprised. As much as he detested that particular language, that still made his step-mum bilingual.

"Spoke," she corrected. "It's been a while since I've had to, so I'm probably rusty and inaccurate. Nothin' as smooth as Francis, definitely, but I can understand and translate to English well enough."

"Still," he breathed, seeing the American in a newer light. True, she was still obnoxious and flamboyant and strained them to the ends of their ropes, but she had a good head on her shoulders and could take care of herself. And now, she spoke two languages. "You don't look like someone who'd bother learning multiple languages, lazy American that you are." He grinned teasingly.

"Hey!" she protested with a wink. "I resemble that remark, too!"

They all chuckled at the comment, Alice patting Amelia's head. "Well, I suppose dinner is ready now, yes?"

"Oh, yeah!" Amelia released Alice to run from the room to the kitchen. "C'mon, I'll get the plates and stuff, so don't let it get cold!"

The young Englishman shook his head along with his mother, standing from his bed and walking with her to the dining room. "So, I suppose we'll be heading up to the dorms tomorrow then?"

"Yes," she replied, her smile fading and a tired look overcoming her features. "I hope the room you're moving to is decent."

Arthur nodded tiredly. "Kiku knows the resident, and he seems likeable enough from what he told me about him."

"That's good." They entered the dining area where Amelia had set plates and silverware, in the process of dishing out portions for each of them. "Let's not worry about it right now, though, poppet. We'll eat and relax for tonight and finalize the details tomorrow."

Arthur sniffed and nodded again in agreement, sitting at his usual place. Dinner was its usual affair, playful banter tossed between them all as they told each other about their days and stories of events that occurred. The letter was not mentioned once, and Arthur went to bed that night wondering what kind of person "Alfred Jones" really was and if they'd get along. He wasn't exactly looking to befriend anyone, but it was a new year. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to have one new friend to talk and share dreams of the future with, to gossip and rant about family and friends and relationships past and present and fantasized. His mind wandered to the blond from his health class.

He could feel himself blush as he recalled the young man's Adonis-like features: a straight nose that held rim-less glasses in front of blue eyes that Arthur was sure were pulled from the cloudless summer sky itself. They were framed by blond hair the color of the late afternoon sun, a pure gold that had to have been spun from straw. His skin was blemish-free and tanned warmly, evidence of his time spent outdoors probably playing some sport or another.

The most stunning feature, however, was his blinding smile. Arthur would see it from afar when he'd laugh with his friends, and then would commence to spend the rest of his day imagining it being aimed at him, being there _because _of him. Arthur was hopelessly smitten, and he didn't even know the lad's name.

Perhaps a new friend wasn't all he should work towards this year.

. . .

The next morning, Arthur was up early, dressed in his most comfortable black skinny jeans, a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, a deep green low-cut waistcoat, and his favorite Union Jack Chuck's. He decided on a mix of punk and gentleman, tossing on his thick wristbands and sliding his phone in his pocket before grabbing his jacket and making his way downstairs.

Amelia and Alice were both sitting at the breakfast table, his mum thumbing through the daily paper and sipping her morning tea while Amelia slurped her caffeinated coffee from her American flag mug.

God, his family was so stereotypical.

Shaking the hopeless thought from his mind, Arthur grabbed a scone from the tray in the middle of the table and poured himself a cup of tea, staring out to the terrace as he nibbled. Unlike dinner, breakfast was a quiet event. None of them were morning people exactly, so it took them all a bit to wake up and get going. The talking didn't start until they'd all had at least two cups of their morning brews of choice and had eaten two or three scones or slices of toast, in Amelia's case.

"Ya ready to do this?" Amelia was licking the jam off of her fingers as she stood, ready to face the day.

Arthur leveled her a disproving look but nodded anyway. "Indeed, I wish to be moved and have done with this as soon as possible. No point in putting it off." Arthur stood behind his step-mother as she grabbed her jacket, blowing kisses to Alice as she remained seated still reading the paper. She had work that day and would be by to see the room later on.

"Don't do anything rash," Alice called as her partner and son stepped into the bright morning air. "And no burgers on the way! You promised me lunch!"

"Love you too, Allie!" Amelia blew one last kiss before heading to climb in the car with Arthur, who was rolling his eyes.

"I don't know how you did it," he commented, settling into the seat as they began the half hour trip to his university's campus.

"Did what?" The American woman glanced at him briefly, a content smile on her lips.

"Mellow Alice Kirkland from tough and untouchable to warm and sappy," he clarified, gazing out the window. "You've brightened life for her and it's extremely noticeable."

Amelia was silent before Arthur felt her shrug. "I love her," she declared brightly. "Love does amazing things like that."

Arthur smiled, and the conversation turned to the music from the radio. They argued whose tastes were better and which genres were the best as they fought for their preferred stations on the drive. By the time they'd gotten to the campus, the channel had been changed approximately fifty times and they'd only listened to about thirty seconds or less of any one song.

"Jeez, I'm gonna have to go listenin' to the same artist for like, an entire day now!" Amelia complained as they exited the car and made their way into the dorms. "That much inconsistency could kill a girl!"

"It's not my fault you can't appreciate the classics," he scoffed, pulling his room card and ID out of his wallet. "I can't believe you'd rather listen to that excuse for a genre instead of the classic rock!"

"Hey!" she exclaimed indignantly, smacking him on the head as they waited for the elevators. "Country is _not _an 'excuse for a genre'! It's full of emotions and tells wonderful stories and is usually pretty relatable."

"Yes," he sneered, stepping into the lift behind her and pushing the button for the fourth floor, "because partying and beer and breakups are simply the bees knees to hear about all the time."

She snorted. "Not that you'd be able to relate to breakups, huh, Artie?"

Arthur flushed in outrage at the stab against his lack of love life. "I-I – That's –" He sputtered, searching desperately for a comeback as they got off and headed towards his room. "That's not any of your business! Just because I haven't been in so many 'relationships' doesn't mean I can't empathize!"

Amelia sighed, slinging an arm around his shoulder as he struggled with getting the door open. "Hey, I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean it like that. It was a joke, Artie." She looked at him, eyes wide and pleading, lip quivering. "Please forgive me?"

Arthur sighed, finally getting the door open and shooting her an exasperated smile. "You're insufferable, woman." He paused, pecking her on the cheek quickly before moving into the room. "But that's why I love you."

"Aw, thanks, Artie! I love you too!"

Entering the spacious area, the Briton glanced around, locating Kiku curled up on his bed, earbuds in and intently watching whatever anime he was currently into on his laptop. The Japanese boy looked up as he waved going over to his side of the room. One earbud was removed.

"Ohayo, Arthur-san, Amelia-san," he called, returning the wave.

"Heya, Kiku!" Amelia bounded in and fell on the poor boy, choking him in a hug. "How're ya this mornin'?"

Kiku looked positively mortified at being suffocated in her well-endowed bosom. "A-Amelia-san, I can't breathe!" Once he'd escaped, he composed himself and smiled. "I'm fine, thank you. If you need any help moving," he turned to Arthur, "feel free to let me know. I'll be here to complete your checkout when you finish and become situated."

Arthur nodded in understanding. "Alright, thank you. Well." He looked back over at his step-mum. "Let's get to it, then."

Amelia let out a loud _whoop _and they started tearing down his things. Arthur unmade his bed, folding the sheets and comforter and blankets together to make them easier to carry as Amelia began removing his posters from the walls. He emptied his wardrobe and bureau of clothes, folding them and packing them into his suitcase for transport, before packing away his textbooks and the few novels he kept for a bit of light reading.

Once he was sure everything was tucked away and ready to move, Amelia loaded her shoulders and arms effortlessly with the bulk of his belongings, leaving him to carry the only two boxes of his books. The only items left were his electronics that they'd make a second trip for, so they bid Kiku a "be right back" and went back to the elevators.

"I coulda carried your laptop, y'know," Amelia was muttering. "It's not that much more."

"Your arms are full," Arthur argued as the metal doors slid open. "It won't kill us to make a second trip. I have to go back to see Kiku anyway, so belt up."

She snorted. "Rude, much?"

He just smirked in return as he pressed the button for the seventh floor and waited as they ascended. "You love me nonetheless."

"Yeah, yeah, don't push your luck." She was grinning widely.

The lift let them off on the desired floor that looked much the same as his old floor. The walls were still just as paint-chipped and dreary, the tiles still cracked. The dorm was one of the oldest on the campus and did not get near the maintenance it should, but it was also the most convenient overall. The lobby area was decent, and Arthur would spend most of his time curled up on the surprisingly comfortable leather sofas, powering through homework and simply surfing the internet.

Unlike his last room that had been at the opposite end of the hall on the fourth floor, his new room – 704 – was the second door on the even side. Looking up, above the door was a neon name tag reading "Alfred F. Jones – Hero!" It almost hurt to look.

"Well, he's gotta be pretty enthusiastic to pull off colors of that pigment!" Amelia whistled, cocking a brow at the blinding slip of paper.

"If his side of the room is half that bright I may need to look into moving rooms yet again," Arthur grumbled, fishing for his new key card and sliding it into the slot. The little light on the lock flashed green and he pushed on the handle, shoving with his shoulder to open the heavy door.

Thankfully, the room showed no sign of bearing the electric oranges and mustard yellows and hot pinks that made up the lad's name tag. To Arthur's mild horror, the colors were actually very familiar – just not in the patterns they should be, in his opinion.

The farther side of the room was bare, so he assumed in the back of his mind that that was his side. The closest side, however, was practically filled to the brim, covered liberally in reds, whites, and blues. If he'd doubted when Kiku had said his new roommate was an American, there was none left whatsoever. And when he'd been told the boy thought of himself as Captain America? Well, if the twenty posters adorning the walls of said hero weren't enough evidence, he wasn't sure anyone would ever be convinced. Mixed among the Captain were the other Avengers, of course, along with the Justice League and other superheroes Arthur didn't care much to learn.

Appeasing to a degree, the young man's bedspread was _not _filled with comic book characters and instead was simple white sheets, red pillowcases and a deep blue comforter. An American flag design throw blanket lay over it, with the authentic inspiration pinned right above the bed, the white stripes faded to an off-white vanilla, the red looking more burgundy and the blue a dim midnight in the corner.

_Was it passed through generations? _was the only thought Arthur could formulate.

"Well." Amelia had pushed ahead of him as he stood planted in the doorway, stunned. "I guess he's American, then?"

"Ha, ha," Arthur forced out, shuffling forward, eyes wide as he glanced around. He didn't have anything against Americans, per se – bloody hell, his _step-mum _was American! – but this lad seemed to have an extreme case of patriotism. Hero, indeed. "I just hope he has half the competence level I fear he doesn't. This is mad."

"Just 'cause we're American doesn't mean we're stupid, y'know," Amelia pouted.

"I could argue that, but I doubt your measly brain functions would be able to keep up, and it would be a waste of both your time and mine."

"Be that way." Amelia huffed, throwing her load down onto his bed and straightening up, placing her fists on her hips. "You want help settin' this all back up?"

Arthur dropped his boxes on his desk. "Only if you don't have anywhere to be." He glanced around once more.

Amelia shook her head and he nodded, both starting the process of redecorating his room to his preferences. Amelia hung all his posters back up, his side filling with bands of all sorts – Metallica, Def Leppard, Five Finger Death Punch, Black Veil Brides, Avenged Sevenfold to name but a few – and his favorite books and movies – _The Lord of the Rings _and _The Hobbit, Harry Potter, Game of Thrones _and of course _Doctor Who_. Above the bed, similar to how his roommate did, Amelia hung his own Union Jack.

Arthur had made his bed, the sheets a simple meadow green, the pillowcases the same shade with a deep emerald edge, and his comforter the same emerald green, embroidered with golden rune-like symbols around the border. It was very mystical, which had initially caught his eye, and it didn't hurt that it was also in his preferred color. Arthur stood back, smoothing his own Union Jack throw blanket across his bedspread, admiring the cleanliness and order, glancing between the beds.

At least the colors clashed well.

The Brit then turned to his desk, pulling his books out as his step-mum hung his jackets and more formal wear in the wardrobe provided and folded and tucked his undergarments, jeans and band tees into the bureau. He arranged his desk drawers to his liking, organizing binders and paper and pencils in an orderly fashion, using a bookend to prop his texts and novels against the side of his wardrobe neatly.

"Well, I guess there's only your computer left, then, huh?" Amelia had finished with his clothes and toiletries, and was wiping nonexistent dust from her hands, exaggerating her hard work as she exited the bathroom.

"Yes, and I have to formally check out with Kiku and turn in my other room key," he summarized, peering around one last time before heading for the door. The trip back down to the room was quiet, Arthur beginning to feel the effects of rising so early and moving things around.

Kiku had propped the door open sometime while they were gone, as to make it more convenient for others on the floor to visit with the RA. Arthur and Amelia entered tiredly, the American woman's destination the desk and electronics on it as the young blond Briton tossed his hair and spoke to his former roommate.

"It'll be quiet as the grave without you around, Arthur-san," Kiku sighed wistfully, a small grin on his lips as Arthur signed his paperwork.

"Not that it was any louder to begin with," he shot back playfully, smiling as well. "I take it Yao is not very talkative then?"

"Oh, no, he never knows when to stop talking," Kiku shook his head sadly, "but while he adjusts, he won't speak at all; that's just how he is."

"Well, I wish him luck all the same," Arthur chuckled, handing over the documents and turning to face Amelia, who had the rest of his things in her arms at the door.

"All set?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "Oh, here's the key to the room." He held it to the Japanese boy, who took it gently from his fingers.

"See you around, Arthur-san. Tell Alfred I said 'hello' when you meet him, and that I've got the next manga volumes for _Attack on Titan. _He'll know what you mean."

"Alright," he nodded. "Have a good day, Kiku."

He took his leave after that parting, Amelia following him back to his new room and helping to set his computer and printer back up. She stood back when it was running smoothly, glancing around one last time.

"Seems small compared to the other room, huh?"

The Brit sighed and nodded slowly. "Yes, it does. But I'll adjust soon enough."

"Well, since we've completed this mission, wanna grab somethin' to eat? I'm starved!" She'd skipped back to the door.

"Mum said no burgers."

"Aww!" Cue the pout.

"No, you heard her this morning," he reprimanded. "But." His eyes sparkled devilishly. "We _can _go get you a milkshake."

Her smirk was as wide as his own. "Deal."

. . .

"Are ya sure ya don't wanna spend one more night at home?"

Amelia had asked the same question upwards of ten times by that time, and Arthur couldn't hold his groan of annoyance. "I'm positive, Amelia," he stated, glaring out the car window as she drove him back to the dorms. "My new instructors have given out homework via email and I would like a place where I'm uninterrupted to complete it."

"Okay, okay, jeez," she whined, pulling up under the overhang to let him out. "Don't get your panties in a bunch or anything."

"I wear boxers, thank you very much."

"I know." Her smirk was evil. "I wash them. Are the flying mint bunny ones still your fave?"

"Gah!" Arthur quickly stumbled out of the car as he listened to his step-mum laugh raucously. "Don't speak to me again, woman!" He was flushed in embarrassment as he paused, holding the door and turning back to her one last time. "I'm wearing them right now," he admitted in defeat. She just snickered harder. "Love you too, good night!"

Arthur slammed the car door before she could retort and was inside and heading for the lifts in record time. He probably pushed the call button harder than was necessary, but he was fuming at his childish mother. _There is nothing wrong with my choice of design on my pants! _

_Just keep telling yourself that, and maybe it'll be true. _

Arthur slumped against the walls as the elevator took him up to his new floor, slinking off of it when the doors opened once again and padding down the carpeted hall to his new room. He slid his key in and out, waiting for the light to flash before shoving it open as was required. The door's hinges were sluggish to turn, and he was fairly certain they needed oiling or something.

The room was vacant of another body as it had been when he'd first been there, so he waddled forward to throw himself on his new bed. The comforter still smelled of the detergent his mum used to do laundry and he inhaled the soothing scent deeply, letting a lull fall over him. It was only late afternoon, but he felt his day had been long and tiring.

As per usual for him anymore, he began to drift into his fantasy about the cute blond from his class. He noted from sitting and observing the lobby area while doing homework that he'd see the boy hanging about, and fleetingly wondered if the young man was a resident in the dorms. He was always by his friends, watching the table tennis matches or participating in a game of billiards in the recreation area. Kicking off his shoes, Arthur curled up under the thick throw blanket, intent on napping to the image of the blond's smile and eyes. He was doing that a lot, as of late.

He figured he'd been out about the rest of the afternoon when he next stirred, blinking groggily up at the plain ceiling. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and detecting the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. His new roommate was back.

"The moment of truth, I suppose," he muttered to himself, moving to his knees. He slid to the end of the bed and reached the short distance to his desk chair, using that to balance as he grabbed his laptop. He was feeling too lazy to put his feet on the floor and simply _walk _to get it.

Arthur booted up the computer, closing the applications that automatically opened at start-up and bringing up his browser. His Facebook came up immediately and he opened tabs for his FanFiction and YouTube accounts as well, scrolling through his news feed lethargically as the shower shut off. His heart rate picked up ever so slightly, the anticipation of seeing his new roommate for the first time churning his insides.

_Will he be tall? _Arthur wondered idly, his eyes relaxing to an unfocused state as he mused. _He sounds like he should be tall. Probably won't be, though. "Alfred" seems like a fairly nerdy name, I suppose. Bet he's short, gangly, with slicked back dark hair and freckles. Buck teeth, braces, bad case of acne._

The Briton sighed. That didn't sound appealing at all. Not that he judged based on looks alone, but the prospect of having an aesthetically-challenged roommate – especially after cute Kiku – turned him off the room even more. Granted, one couldn't judge solely based on a name, but Arthur had an active imagination, and he tended to imagine the worst-case scenarios first.

"Oh, hey! You're up!"

Arthur's head whipped up at the cheery voice that rang through the silent room, his body freezing and his eyes widening. He was also pretty sure his pants became just that much tighter as well.

Blond hair darkened to a glinting ochre by water hung dripping around a tanned face. Crystalline sapphire irises gazed welcomingly at Arthur through clear lenses, twinkling subtly in the dim lamplight from the young man's desk, and beneath faintly flushed cheeks rested that familiar smile that set Arthur's pulse racing and could quite possibly be considered one of his questionable fetishes. It was wide – almost splitting his face in two – rivalling the rising moon in its luminescence, and _aimed at him_.

Pulling his attention off of the thousand-watt smile gracing the lad's features, he was distracted by the defined pectorals and abdominals that stood out on the young man's bare chest. Arthur felt his face heat considerably as his eyes traced every line, every smooth plane before they were covered by a tight white shirt as he dressed himself.

Arthur wanted to whine in protest at the loss of such a delicious body, fighting the urge to gasp wantonly and palm himself through his jeans. He bit his lip to hold back a moan when the young blond bent over, giving him a _nice _view of a firm arse in flannel pyjamas as he took his own laptop out of his bag and crawled into his bed.

The American turned to face Arthur once again, smile still in place. "Didja have a nice nap, dude? You were dead to the world when I came in." He chuckled loudly.

Arthur took a second to let the irritation at the murder of the English language run its course, feeling a slight chill run up his spine. "I-I – ah – wha…" He stuttered about for something to say, feeling completely mortified at his behavior. Three sentences – give or take – and he was a bumbling mess! "Who are you?"

_Brilliant. That's the best you could do? At least you didn't embarrass yourself further by commenting on his arse. _

_This _was the boy he'd been fawning over for an entire semester! The gorgeous blond with the shining smile that he basically reverted to Love-struck Teenage Girl mode for, exhausting his blush superpower and his contented sigh supply. What was he doing in Arthur's room?!

"Oh, right!" The blond laughed, the sound slightly obnoxious up close and personal. Arthur felt his stomach drop at the thought, cringing minutely. "I'm Alfred! Alfred F. Jones –" He threw his arms out in a pose. "HERO!" Alfred smiled happily at Arthur once more.

"I'm your new roommate!"


	2. Triple Date

**_Finally! This was probably supposed to be up closer around Valentine's Day, but assignments in my classes kept me from being able to find any time to write until this week. Luckily, today is still February (where I am; I'm not sure about you people over in the eastern hemisphere living in the future), so even though it's the last day of the month, it still counts. HAH. Plus, this is a bit longer than the last chapter to make up for taking so Goddamn long. _  
**

**_I want to give a big thank you to _Adnarim Neko _for being one of the best reviewers an author could ask for. You are AWESOME, my dear, and your reward shall be up within the next two weeks. I'm making it extra special because you've basically read and reviewed everything I've ever written and uploaded. Lots of hugs. *hearts*_**

**_Have at it, guys. _**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**_Triple Date _**

Arthur was pretty sure he was reading some hybrid form of Pig Latin-Greek as he attempted to power through his Physical Science homework. It was an absolutely pointless class, in his English major opinion, but it was a required pointless class that he unfortunately needed to graduate. He'd been putting off taking any sort of math or science classes for three years now – what kind of proper creative writing major in his right mind would even _want _to take classes dealing with numbers, anyway? The reason he was a _creative writing _major was because he loved and understood _words_, for crying out loud! – and he was running out of major-related courses to take, anyway. So, required bullocks classes it was.

It still did not change the fact that he felt what he was supposed to be learning was written in a dead language even its original creators didn't want to speak. Emerald eyes were drying out from staring so long at the same two paragraphs for nearly an hour and a half, college-ruled notebook loose-leaf filled with smudged margins from scribbling through equations, the paper practically grey from erasing and reworking everything because the answer either didn't look right due to common sense, or wasn't right because his book told him "You done goofed, do it again."

Arthur snorted at himself for such an ungentlemanly quip. It was something Alfred liked to say when he was playing his crazy horror video games late at night, headset turned up so loud Arthur could hear it through his music across the room. Whenever the American was being chased by some monster or such and couldn't get away in time, or messed a puzzle up and needed to redo it _while _a monster was after him, he'd mutter and yelp to himself; and unfortunately, it was seeping into the Briton's subconscious mind. Actually, now that he thought about it, much of what his American roommate did tended to seep into his subconscious.

It had been a little less than an entire month since Arthur had been moved in with Alfred F. Jones. It was honestly like living at home without actually being at home with his mothers, though that fact did not exactly make him happy. The Brit felt almost like his mum when she and Amelia had first met, practically raising an adult-sized child even though they were dating. Arthur had been the outlet for Alice's venting many a workday morning over a hot, steaming cuppa, nodding solemnly along with whatever profanities spewed about the "childish, annoying excuse for a grown woman" that, despite every negative comment, she couldn't help but continue being around. It was amazing how much he took after Alice, not only looking almost exactly like her, but mimicking actions and even, apparently, feeling the same way for an American idiot.

Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples as he tossed his pencil into his textbook and gently closed it, tossing it with his homework to the edge of his bed before flopping onto his side and burying his face into the comforter. Peeking up, he saw that the light seeping from the edge of the curtains was fading from the bright lemon-yellow of the afternoon to the deeper golden-orange and pink of the evening, softening the glow inside the room. He was going to have to turn his bedside lamp on momentarily to continue on his stupid Physical Science.

He was quickly zoning out as he lay there that when the door practically slammed into the wall, eliciting a small yelp on his part and sending him to the floor.

"Artie! Arrrrtie!" Arthur groaned in response as the American jumped onto his own bed, peering over the edge at the Brit with bright blue eyes. "I need your help, dude!"

"You're going to take the door off its hinges one of these days, you git," Arthur mumbled, picking himself up and climbing back onto his bed, turning to face Alfred. "One," he huffed, "it's Arthur. Two, what could you possibly need help with?"

The Englishman was seriously regretting the day Amelia and Alice had come to see him, Amelia because she could and Alice because she hadn't seen the room as of then. It was about three days after his move, and after that first day, Arthur hadn't seen much of Alfred due to their schedules. The day had started fine and he was happy to see his moms again, but that had started to change when the American came back to the dorm early. He'd been perfectly polite, Arthur had to give him that, presenting himself as a sweet and perfect gentleman, addressing them as "ma'am" and smiling so warmly Arthur swore he could feel the temperature rising.

It really wasn't until Amelia had insisted she was too manly for being a "ma'am" and then made the mistake of calling Arthur by his nickname, ruffling his hair as she did so and just generally goading him into reacting to her teasing, that things started downhill. Well, he would say "downhill" but that was simply because Alfred calling him "Artie" seemed too friendly and intimate for their level of acquaintanceship. He would never admit it was because he found it cute and secretly liked to think it was because Alfred fancied him.

"Psh," Alfred scoffed, waving his hand. "Whatever. Artie's easier say, but that's not the point." Situating himself on his knees, the American looked directly into Arthur's eyes, his lenses glinting in the light of the bedside lamp he'd turned on. "Do you know what's coming up in like, three days?"

Arthur raised a thick eyebrow, settling onto his own bed cross-legged and crossing his arms as he thought about the events occurring in the next week. He was terrible with dates and times, however, and could hardly remember what month the world was supposedly in. Glancing over at his calendar, he squinted at the hastily scribbled due dates and reminders of tests and quizzes, attempting to pinpoint anything that could be of any sort of relevance to what the American could be referencing.

"Um, an exam?" he finally guessed, looking back at Alfred. The American blinked and pursed his lips.

"Oh, crap!" Arthur thought he looked fairly surprised at having an exam so soon, and outwardly rolled his eyes. "But no, that's not what I'm talking about." Alfred leaned forward. "It's Valentine's day, bro!"

The Briton blinked, looking back over to the calendar and finally seeing the pink and white hearts and elegantly printed "LOVE" designed monthly picture. "Oh. I suppose it is." He threw a questioning gaze to his roommate. "Your point?"

"I need your help setting up a plan for a date!"

Arthur stilled, torn at the words. There was one part of his brain that simply wondered at how he, Arthur Kirkland, one of the most anti-social people he could know, could possibly have or give any sort of dating advice. His step-mom was absolutely on point when she said he had practically no experience with break ups, because he'd never dated. Sad, yes, seeing as how he was a third year university student, but he'd never considered that part of his life to be as important as his studies.

The next part of him internally squealed in delight and commenced to fanboy at the thought of Alfred liking someone enough to want to take them out. Alfred and him had immediately had the sexuality discussion after Arthur had introduced Amelia and Alice as his moms; he couldn't care less what anyone thought about his moms' orientation, but it had made it easier when Alfred had admitted that he thought having two moms was something to take pride in. It wasn't quite as much of a shock that he immediately admitted to preferring his own sex right after they left, to which Arthur admitted to as well, which led into a small bonding night trading gossip and talking of the latest trends of the world. Regardless, the Brit was tempted to dive right in and question him about his crush until the American wanted nothing more to do with him.

The last part was frozen cold and still as stone, the part of him that had slowed his heart and was more than likely draining his face of the blood that the fanboy in him was sending up. Alfred liked someone. _Alfred liked someone_ – liked them enough to take them out on a date for _Valentine's Day. _Arthur wasn't sure how to think about that. Unfortunately, he and the American had not known each other long enough for Arthur to be the one that Alfred could be wanting to ask out, even though his heart was hoping for it. Consequently, the Brit was unsure that he wanted to help the American in planning a night out with his chosen someone.

At the same time, Arthur was also recalling his resolutions to himself for the new year. He'd pretty much completed one; he'd made friends with his roommate, even if it was due to the American being a people person that basically friended everyone around him. The second, however, he was having second thoughts on. Now that the cute blond he wanted to ask out was his _roommate, _he wasn't sure it was such a great idea to pursue a relationship beyond platonic with the American. Yes, Arthur still believed Alfred was the cutest, most adorable, most attractive being to walk in his line of sight; however, while being roommates and dating could be considered a plus – always together and close and whatnot – should it not work out or they break it off, having to spend every night with the person he would least want to see didn't sound like a very bright idea.

Arthur, while having never actually dated, knew that he couldn't handle personal rejection very well. He was committed to the few friendships he had, and he dedicated himself to maintaining them to the best of his abilities. He'd had a few friendships end because he was supposedly "too difficult" and he'd spent the following month or so pretty much locked in his room and secluded, only coming out for minimal interactions, and then actively trying to avoid the ones that didn't want him in their lives anymore. The thought of being rejected after being in a more intimate relationship – he could only imagine the state of depression he could fall into if Alfred decided they didn't work together.

And that was why he was almost a month into rooming with Alfred and still had yet to approach him and ask him out. He probably would've already asked had the American remained an attractive classmate; being rejected by a stranger sounded a lot easier to deal with than someone he knew closely, and especially easier than someone he had to live with and wouldn't easily be able to stay away from. He could just imagine how awkward it would be to basically admit he was attracted to Alfred and then the American, being the people-pleaser and genuinely nice young man that he was, trying to find a way to let him down easily by saying he already had someone in mind, and then having to face each other every day knowing feelings were unrequited.

Arthur was not sure he liked those thoughts, and so shook his head to clear them out and faced the American directly. "Ah – Um, a d-date?" Well, at least his stuttering still worked.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Yes, Artie, a _date. _You know, the thing people go on for special occasions?"

Arthur bristled, frowning. Just because he'd never had a boyfriend! "Yes, I know what a date is, Alfred!" he snapped, feeling his face flush in anger and embarrassment. He took a deep breath as the American snickered. "Anyway, what makes you think I can help?"

Alfred threw his hands up in the air. "Dude, you're like, the smartest person I know!" he exclaimed, and Arthur flushed deeper at the praise.

"Th-That still doesn't mean I can help," he muttered. "But I suppose I can try. What exactly do you want my help with?"

Alfred sat back, finger tapping his chin as he thought. Arthur watched him for a minute before turning and flopping towards the end of his bed, grabbing his textbook and homework and pulling his things over to him as he straightened up. He returned to scribbling equations and working through the gibberish problems, glancing over at the tall blond periodically to see if he'd made any progress with his thoughts, which didn't seem overly likely as the American had pulled out his own homework at some point.

"What would your perfect date be?" Alfred suddenly asked, tossing his books away and facing Arthur with curious blue eyes.

Arthur, now finished with his homework, closed the book and paused, tilting his head in thought. "Hm. I suppose I wouldn't mind a nice dinner out at – not necessarily a high-class restaurant, but somewhere more than fast food. So McDonald's is out," he emphasized with a smirk, earning a snort. "Then perhaps just a quiet stroll through the park or something." He shrugged. "Personally, if my beau took me to a Barnes and Noble and offered to buy me a book I took interest in, not only would his attractiveness shoot up a few points, but he'd definitely have a higher percentage of a next date."

Alfred hummed in acknowledgement, leaning back against his headboard. Arthur stared for a minute before speaking again. "But that's just me. Some people may like the dinner and movie route, or perhaps an extremely fancy dinner and for you to get them expensive gifts. Some would prefer to stay in and simply cuddle, I guess, which I would have to say is my next preferred option." Alfred smiled at that, so Arthur continued. "I guess it just depends on the person you want to take on said date. I mean, bloody hell, if someone were to take _you _out, for example, I'd have to suggest McDonald's and an arcade, or a Game Stop." The American laughed out loud, and Arthur smiled.

"That _does _sound like a pretty good date plan," Alfred agreed, turning onto his side to face his roommate with a wry grin.

"To you, yes," Arthur said, shaking his head. "As I stated, mine would be Barnes and Noble. Preferably with a thermos of tea to sip on as well."

"You're so British sometimes," Alfred chuckled. "It's cute." He rolled back onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he contemplated what Arthur had said as mentioned Briton stared at him wide-eyed, cheeks heating up yet again.

"What's this guy you're taking out like, anyway?" Arthur asked, simply to get his mind off of Alfred's random compliments.

"Hm? Oh, he's kinda like you, actually," Alfred replied. "He's quiet and likes to read, always gets good grades and works hard. Most people ignore him, though, and don't remember he exists, which is kinda sad." Arthur watched a frown cross the American's lips. "He doesn't get the appreciation he deserves."

Arthur frowned as well. That had to be hard on the poor lad. "That sounds terrible," he offered for lack of anything else to say. "He sounds like a nice lad. In fact, he sounds like a friend of mine," he added, thinking of Matthew. "Quiet and reserved, and generally looked over. So much potential that goes to waste because he's never noticed."

"That's how it is with the guy I know," Alfred said, propping his head up on his hand as he rolled onto his side. "And that's why I want to make sure he has a wonderful night, so you gotta help me figure out the perfect date!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "First, it would be "have to", not "gotta." Second, I don't technically _have to _help you do anything, but because I can understand wanting to appreciate those whose existences are passed over, I will help as I can." He sat back, mirroring Alfred and tapping his chin in thought. "If he's anything like the boy I know, I would say a simple dinner followed by an activity of his choice would be the best way to go. Dinner is practically a must, and allowing him to choose what you two do is a way of showing him you value his interests and that you take an interest in him."

Arthur could see the American's blue eyes light up. "Oh, dude! That's perfect!" He smiled brightly, jumping over to Arthur's bed to hug him. "Thanks so much! Oh, this'll be the best date ever!"

Arthur struggled out of Alfred's grasp, shoving the lad back to his own bed to finish his homework. "I'm sure it will, Alfred," he agreed, gathering his books to put them in his bag. "Just make sure you take him somewhere you believe he'll actually be able to eat."

Alfred nodded and continued on his work as Arthur headed to the bathroom. He let the hot water of the shower cascade over his body for several long minutes before washing his skin and hair, humming quietly to himself. When he finished, he dressed in his most comfortable flannel pyjamas and a worn Three Days Grace band tee, sliding under his soft comforter and turning out his light. The only light left came from the glow of his roommate's laptop as the American worked.

"G'night Artie!" Alfred called.

"Hm." Arthur was too tired to properly reply. He was still thinking of the blond's last statement, of his date in three days being the best ever with his unnamed interest. The tightening of his chest made it clear exactly what his heart thought of that.

_Yes. I'm positive it'll be the best date ever. That lucky son of a bitch. _

. . .

Arthur was seriously about to nod off. There were only about ten minutes left of class, and even the professor seemed a bit anxious about getting out of there, simply droning on through the last of the lesson as he continuously glanced up at the clock on the back wall, his rectangle lenses glinting with the tilt of his head up and down. Arthur thought that a bit unusual, as the Speech professor was one of those who held class until the very last second, but if there were a chance to be released early, he wasn't going to question it.

"Bastard seems jumpy today, doesn't he?"

The Briton opened one green eye, glancing over at the voice's owner to his right, shifting to sit up straight from leaning against the wall. The young man was an Italian by the name of Lovino Vargas, a food enthusiast studying nutrition and culinary management, and was fairly good friend of his, with dark auburn hair and a looping curl to his right. Chocolate-green eyes were bored and trained on the front of the room, his face propped on against his fist. He looked as interested as Arthur felt.

"I was just thinking that," Arthur mumbled back. "Wonder what's on his mind?"

Lovino snorted quietly. "Probably that Psych professor that keeps coming by," he smirked. "I mean, have you seen them together? Fucking gay for each other, I swear."

Arthur choked on his laugh, hiding it in a cough. The Italian had a point: everyone in the class was pretty sure there was something going on between their Speech professor and the tall, dark and handsome Psychology professor that seemed to always come around. From the outside, they seemed to hate each other with a fervent passion, hardly able to stand each other, but they really weren't fooling anyone. Arthur knew of several multi-chapter fanfics and one-shots that starred their two favorite professors, and many of them were fairly well-written. He supposed that was because he was one of the main contributing authors, but still.

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Arthur whispered, watching with a subdued grin as the professor checked the clock once again. "I mean, it _is _Valentine's Day, after all. I bet they're going out tonight."

At that moment, the professor finished up and dismissed them with an entire two minutes left, shuffling his papers together as the chairs of his students scooted along the tile floors and meaningless chatter filled the air. Arthur gathered his own bag and stood, stretching his arms above his head. He looked back down at Lovino, shouldering his bag as the Italian stood up as well.

Lovino swung his bag on his own shoulder and started moving to the door. Arthur followed behind him. "Are you doing anything special this evening?" he asked.

He watched the Italian's cheeks redden slightly as he huffed and turned his face away. "Absolutely _not_," he grumbled, crossing his arms tightly. "That sappy shit is for pussies and girls."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, looking down at Lovino skeptically. The Brit was pretty sure the young Italian had a thing for the Spaniard in their shared Physical Science class, considering he was always staring at the dark-haired man with a longingly defeated look.

Antonio Fernández-Carriedo was a twenty-eight year old sixth time returning undergrad trying for a degree in music education. Having to take care of his massive family, however, he was only able to take a few classes a semester at a time, and he was still at least another year away from graduating. Arthur didn't get along with him too well most days, majorly due to the fact that he was a good friend of the frog's, but there was no denying his cheerful disposition and generally laid-back nature. The Spaniard was the one that introduced him to Lovino, as the little Italian had known him since childhood, and the Englishman could tell Lovino loved him deeply. He was also sure Antonio felt the same way for Lovino, but happened to be a bit oblivious and unable to sense the other's emotions. It was almost tragic.

He decided to broach the subject anyway. "You're not doing anything with that Spaniard tonight?" he inquired lightly, pointedly looking forward to avoid the glare he knew was being sent his way. "I mean, you two seem really close, so I would have thought…"

Lovino simply gave him a look. "Well, that proves you shouldn't think," he muttered, glancing away, chewing angrily on his lip. "There's nothing about me that that _idiota _could ever like."

"You shouldn't say things like that," Arthur snapped, frowning at the Italian. "You're a beautiful individual who deserves only the very best anyone can give." He was turning increasingly redder with each word, embarrassed that he was admitting he found Lovino beautiful. "I-I mean, Antonio may be oblivious, but it's obvious he cares for you greatly. He's just, well…" Arthur huffed a chuckle. "Oblivious, I guess."

Arthur was glad Lovino was as red as he was. Awkwardness for the win. "I-I – Wha –" Lovino stuttered, then sighed. "Thanks, I guess, but Toni's already going out tonight with someone." His shoulders slumped.

Arthur stared at him, then slung an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close. "I know that feeling," he said, thinking of Alfred's date with a still unnamed beau. He sighed.

Lovino snorted. "Guy trouble, too, huh?"

Arthur shook his head exasperated. "What's really the worst is that I practically set up the date for him," he complained.

Lovino actually laughed, albeit sarcastically. "Sucks for you, idiot," he smiled. "Guess we're just gonna be fucking forever alone."

"Sexy, free and single," Arthur agreed, causing them both to snort and snicker at his bad references.

They walked together for a while longer, simply chatting about nothing as they headed back to the dorms, neither having class again until later that evening. Deciding they didn't want to hang out in the lobby for the next four hours, Arthur and Lovino split to their rooms to drop off their bags before meeting up to head out for lunch. Lovino was rooming on the third floor with his younger twin Feliciano, who while resembling Lovino closely in looks, was completely the opposite of the older Vargas twin in personality.

Arthur met Lovino at his room, waving to the younger twin who was sitting with his German boyfriend and battling through homework, before dragging the older twin out before he could start in on poor Ludwig and how Germans were good-for-nothing potato-loving bastards. Arthur knew Lovino was just jealous that his younger brother had a boyfriend while he was still pining for a man he'd known all his life. It could be quite amusing listening to the Italian rant and rave like he hated everyone just to see him mutter and stutter and blush heavily when the Spaniard cooed all over him.

How they weren't together yet, Arthur would never know.

The rode the lifts down in silence and headed out into the chilly February air, traversing the campus to the nearest crosswalk. There was a small mall strip across from the campus with several restaurants and eateries along it, along with a few fast food joints, one of which was to be their destination for lunch.

"I really don't see what Feli sees in him," Lovino was grumbling as they were seated at a window table. "Bastard's too stuck up and hard-assed. He's gonna get hurt."

Arthur rolled his eyes as he listened to the Italian rant. "Lovino, are you sure you're not simply jealous of Feliciano?" he interrupted, a smirk on his face. "I may not know Ludwig personally, but he seems very organized and orderly." He shrugged. "I would think Feliciano needs someone to keep him on track and focused."

Lovino scoffed. "Whatever. The last German Feli took an interest in ended up leaving him after promising they'd be together." Lovino seemed to space out, a frown on his face. "Looked just like potato-bastard, too."

Arthur let out a long breath. "I'm sorry, I hadn't thought about the history behind it." He was sincerely apologetic. "But Ludwig, no matter what he looks like or what nationality he is, isn't the last guy."

Lovino leaned against his fist, propping his elbow on the table. "I realize this," he said, "but that doesn't mean I'm not going to give him a hard time about my _fratellino._ Feli deserves someone who will always be there for him. " He looked directly into Arthur's eyes. "It's my job to make sure the bastard lives up to expectations."

Arthur smiled back, nodding in agreement. Lovino, no matter how much he complained, loved Feliciano more than anything or anyone in the world. Most people wouldn't have thought it, but he was one of the best siblings anyone could have. "Indeed," he said, placing his order when the waiter came over, asking them for drinks and their entrée selections.

They continued to converse on lighter topics once their food came, discussing homework and assignments coming up in the two classes they had together. They then started elaborating on their talk of their professors and how they were basically a couple no matter how much they claimed to hate one another.

They were laughing pretty hard at the mention of the fanfiction written.

"I mean, seriously," Lovino was saying, chuckles escaping between words. "You can practically feel the fucking sexual tension when they're in the same damn building."

Arthur couldn't breathe. "Oh, I know!" he gasped, smile wide. "And the way they always give each other these _looks_," he said, gesturing with his hand. "I bet they have pretty good hate-sex."

"Bondage and all that shit," Lovino agreed, finishing off his meal.

Arthur nodded, unable to say anything through his last bite. "Well," he said once he'd swallowed. "We should probably head back soon."

"Yeah," the Italian agreed, suddenly frowning at his plate.

Arthur frowned as well. "What is it?"

Lovino shook his head. "As pathetic as it sounds," he started, "I'm actually pretty fucking jealous of them." He looked up at Arthur, chocolate-green eyes sad. "At least they're together, supposed animosity aside, and they've got each other to do these silly fucking pussy dates on a day dedicated to throwing your relationship status, or lack thereof, in your face."

Arthur was at a loss for a response, unable to comfort the little Italian who looked so dejected. "Lovino," he started, sighing, "I… I wish…" He wasn't sure what to say. He instead stared unseeing at the table, twisting his hands together in his lap. It was pretty sad that the day that should be celebrated happily was turning out so somber.

"Maybe we should go out to dinner."

Arthur's head shot up, eyes wide at the words from the Italian. "E-Excuse me?"

Lovino was redder than his tomatoes, looking out the window to his right as he crossed his arms in front of himself. "W-Well, I just thought that 'cause we're both alone for the day, we could hang out together or something." He eyed Arthur in a side-glance. "N-Not that I really want to go to dinner with _you_, b-but since Tonio's already going out, and Alfred seems to have plans…"

The Englishman was about as red as the Italian. "O-Oh, well…" He took a deep breath, looking out the window as well. "I-I suppose it wouldn't hurt," he muttered. Thinking about it, Arthur figured it really wouldn't be a bad thing to humor Lovino for the night. The Italian was right – it wasn't like the ones they really wanted to be with were available for the night, and he thought it sounded much better than sitting alone in the dorm wishing for the impossible. He smiled a genuine smile when Lovino looked back up. "I'd love to, Lovino. Sounds like fun."

The Italian nodded, quickly standing up and heading for the exit. "G-Great!" he said, looking to escape. "Then let's go. We've got class in a bit."

Arthur chuckled bemusedly as he followed after Lovino, catching up and walking beside him as they headed back to the campus. "So, are you the dinner and a movie type, or would you prefer dinner and cuddling at the dorm?" he asked, a smirk on his lips as he teased the Italian.

Lovino bristled, blushing even harder and speeding up slightly. "D-Dinner and splitting will be fine," he replied, avoiding Arthur's eyes. "I-I know somewhere decent that Feli recommended that won't be crowded, so I think we'll just do that."

Arthur laughed again. "Fair enough," he conceded. "I'll pick you up this evening, then?"

Lovino looked over and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan." He was quiet for a minute before adding, "Don't expect any compliments, though, bastard. It's not like I like you or anything stupid like that."

Arthur just rolled his eyes. "Of course not. If you did, I'd be treated closer to Antonio, would I not?"

Lovino pursed his lips in thought before snorting. "Probably."

They chuckled and joked as they approached the campus, heading back to the dorm so Lovino could gather his things for his next class and Arthur could head back to his room to wait for their shared evening class. Arthur finalized the pickup time for their dinner date, bidding the Italian farewell until their class time before reaching his room and kicking off his shoes as he walked in and flopped onto his bed. Alfred was perched on his bed, staring intently at his laptop as he typed away at what the Brit assumed was an essay.

"Hey, Artie," Alfred called automatically, not taking his blue eyes away from his screen.

"It's Arthur," he corrected just as automatically, used to their little greeting ritual at this time of day. "And hello, Alfred." He buried his face in his blankets, closing his eyes and letting his mind wander about. He was extremely tired suddenly.

"Oh, I never asked," Alfred piped up a while later. Arthur had almost dozed off and was jolted back to full consciousness. "Are you doing anything tonight with anyone?"

Arthur raised his head from its position between his arms, squinting over at the American blearily. "As a matter of fact, I am," he replied slowly, unsure as to why the blond was suddenly interested. Alfred had completely ignored the fact that Valentine's Day was coming up after their initial discussion on what kind of date the American should take his beau on, and Arthur thought it weird that he suddenly wanted to know. "What's it to you?"

Alfred just shrugged. "Just curious," he evaded, pointedly concentrating on his screen. "Someone I know?"

Arthur remained silent, raising an eyebrow. He finally answered, "If it is?"

It was a bit curious to see the tightening of Alfred's jawline, his cerulean eyes narrowing by an infinitesimal amount and to hear the click of the keys sounding harsher as the American hit them with harder strokes. Two breaths later, the blond just shrugged again, seeming to calm down. "I suppose it doesn't matter. Again, just curious."

Arthur hummed skeptically, still not totally believing the American's play at nonchalance. "Right." But he let it go, rolling over to look at the time and groaning, letting his head flop over the edge of the bed and rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. "Oh, I don't want to go to Physical Science," he moaned, staring up at the ceiling.

"Since when don't you want to go to class?" Alfred asked with a laugh. "Don't you practically live in the classrooms or something? The library, at least."

Arthur just shot him a look. "I happen to _like _the library," he shot back, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Much easier to deal with than you and your horror games."

Alfred scoffed. "Pfft. Don't be dissing the horror, man," he said, smiling. "When the zombie apocalypse occurs or you get lost in a dark forest, you'll be thanking me for teaching your subconscious how to survive."

The Brit rolled his eyes. "I doubt that will be the way the world goes," he sneered, "and I don't think I'll be traversing an old castle haunted with darkness anytime soon, either."

"Hah!" the American exclaimed, looking up and pointing to him. "So you _do _pay attention when I play _Amnesia!_"

Arthur deadpanned. "It's fairly hard not to, when you sit there screaming the entire time!"

Alfred frowned. "I do _not _scream!" he said indignantly.

Arthur smirked. "Oh, right. You _squeal._" He laughed as his roommate huffed and turned away with a pout, acting the part of an over-grown child, mumbling to himself. "Oh, belt up," Arthur scoffed. "It's actually not as bad as many of those YouTubers you watch. I don't see how you can sit and watch them all the time." He shook his head. "Seems like a perfect waste of time to me."

"They're funny and entertaining," Alfred defended. "It's a great way to relax. Plus," he added, a facetiously serious look on his face, "watching them means I can be prepared for the monsters that appear."

Arthur nodded along. "I would wonder if that didn't take away from the experience, but based on the high pitch of your yelps, I'd say no amount of preparing actually helps." He smiled wryly at Alfred's eye roll.

"Whatever, dude. You're such a buzz kill."

"Considering you don't have the brain cells to spare for a buzz," he quipped, "that's probably a good thing."

Alfred just grinned and went back to his work on his computer, typing away quickly at whatever he was working on.

Arthur glanced over at his clock again and groaned dismally, rolling off of his bed and sliding on his shoes. "I'll see you later tonight, Alfred," he called as he shouldered his bag and made his way to the door. "Have fun on your date this evening."

"Yeah, you too, Artie," Alfred called back, waving absently as he concentrated on his work.

Arthur headed out, waiting for the lifts to take him down to the lobby and walking briskly out into the cold wintry air. If he didn't know better, he'd say Alfred sounded more subdued than normal when they'd spoken. He frowned to himself, eyebrows furrowing as he tightened his scarf around his neck and shoved his hands into his coat. Alfred had seemed… disappointed, maybe? Definitely unimpressed, he decided, and too inquisitive for being "just curious."_ He couldn't be… _Arthur's heart sped up and his eyes widened a fraction. _He's not _jealous, _is he?_ The Briton immediately discarded that thought. _No, he couldn't be. He isn't even _interested _in me. He has his own crush right now, anyway. _

He had to admit, though: it was a nice thought.

. . .

Arthur stood before Lovino's door at a quarter to seven, dressed nicely but casually in his nicest pair of skinny jeans, camouflage Converse All-Stars, a collared white shirt with the sleeves rolled and his favorite green waistcoat, a black tie hanging loosely around his neck. Seeing as how this was _not _an official date, he didn't feel as obligated to dress to the nines in his preferred slacks and a jacket. He did, however, make sure his hygiene was respectable, and had shampooed twice in the shower. Arthur also had added a single spritz of his preferred cologne brand, just because.

He was sexy and he knew it. Big deal.

It was two minutes later that Lovino rushed out, yelling what Arthur assumed was some warning or another in his native tongue back towards his younger twin who was smiling and waving happily at them as they made their way out.

Arthur glanced over Lovino once as they rode the lift down, taking in the tight black jeans and designer loafers, the crisp – was that Armani? – red silk shirt and the stylish black watch on his wrist. If there was one thing about the Italians, they knew how to dress to impress.

"You look great tonight," he complimented, enjoying the embarrassed blush that rose on the Italian's face.

"Y-You, too, idiot," Lovino returned quietly. He looked away as he added, "The tomato-bastard always says I look best in red."

Arthur nodded. "It makes the red in your hair pop," he observed, the auburn strands now a bit more coppery than chocolate.

The fell to silence as the lift opened to the lobby, both heading to the exit and into the parking lot where Lovino's grandfather had promised to pick them up to escort them. Since they both lived on campus, neither male had brought a car with them because they hadn't needed one. Because of that, they either had to catch rides with friends that commuted or call in a relative to come and pick them up, as Lovino had done, when they wanted to go off-campus outside of walking distance.

"_Buonasera, Arturo,_" Roma Vargas called as the Brit climbed into his car. "How are you this evening?"

"Good evening to you, _signor _Vargas" he replied, scooting to the far side as Lovino climbed in behind him. "I'm well, thank you."

The man waved his hand. "Oh, please, call me Grandpa Roma," he insisted with a wink. "Everyone does."

"_Nonno, _Feli and I are the only ones who do that." Lovino rolled his eyes.

"Lies!" the man scoffed, throwing the car into gear and slowly pulling out of the lot. "_Gilbert_ does it all the time when he visits with _Antonio._"

"Those guys are like, five, mentally. It's okay for them. And aren't you always complaining about how old it makes you seem?"

"Details," Roma insisted, changing lanes smoothly.

Arthur chuckled to himself. It was quite amusing to see the Italian's interaction with his grandfather. Not that anyone would assume Roma Vargas was the twins' grandfather – he looked to be in his early forties at the oldest, more like a father, with chocolaty hair that curled all about his head, three wayward strands bouncing about like Lovino's and Feliciano's. He sported a bit of a beard, and there were distinct laugh lines around his chocolate eyes that crinkled as he smiled, laughing at his oldest grandson's expense as the young Italian huffed.

Arthur remained mostly silent during the short ride, only really replying to questions directed at him and quietly teasing Lovino when Roma started telling stories of the twins' as kids. The ride to the restaurant was fairly short, and they arrived shortly before their seven-thirty reservation. Arthur followed Lovino out of the car, waving goodbye to Roma as he wished them well and left.

Arthur turned to the Italian, offering his arm. "Shall we?" He winked and laughed as Lovino glared and stalked off ahead, completely ignoring him, the Brit following behind.

They came to the host stand, giving their reservation name and making small talk as they were led through the dining area to their table in the back. Arthur glanced around, taking in the atmosphere and décor. The lighting was soft and inviting, coming from the many candelabras on the walls and the clusters of candles on each of the tables. Red curtains were draped from the rafters, bathing the restaurant in a crimson-tinted glow. The floor was a mix of marbled tiles, an off-white swirled with mocha brown, that eventually met a dark forest green carpet. The tables were a warm cherry wood, each with its own pristine white cloth runner covered in rose petals.

It was definitely Valentine's Day.

Arthur and Lovino seated themselves, ordering their drinks as a waiter came around with breadsticks, and looking over the menus at the many appetizers and entrées offered, as well as the themed specials for the special night. When their waiter came back around with the drinks, Arthur ordered an endless soup and salad meal, and Lovino ordered a bowl of the place's signature pasta, stunning the waiter a bit by ordering in fluent Italian.

As the waiter left with their orders, Arthur smirked at Lovino. "Show off."

Lovino just picked up his glass and sipped his drink, shrugging. "If you got it, flaunt it."

Arthur hummed in agreement, sipping at his own drink and looking around again, this time taking in the occupancy. The place wasn't overly packed, but it wasn't empty, either. The din of conversation was calm and friendly, the tables filled with couples of all ages out on the town for the night, some laughing at jokes and stories, others staring into each other's eyes, and yet still others sipping at red wines and passing hinting glances and suggestive upturns of lips.

As his gaze glided over the far wall, green eyes caught sight of bright blond hair with a wayward cowlick bouncing proudly as the owner threw his head back and laughed, the sound loud and obnoxious, but still oddly charming in its joviality.

His breath caught, his eyes wide and disbelieving. Alfred was there, too?! Arthur shook his head, trying to think through the weird coincidence that the American would take his date to the same restaurant Lovino had suggested to him just earlier that day. It wasn't an overly well-known place by any standards, but the Briton supposed it wasn't completely unexpected, seeing as how Lovino had mentioned it wouldn't be crowded. Alfred had probably known that and had decided to take his date there. He blinked and looked back at Alfred, his eyes scanning the rest of the four-person table to see who it was the American had taken out.

He had to do a double take when he placed the second head of blond hair, the gentle indigo eyes behind rounded frames, and the stray looping curl falling in front of his face.

What the bloody fucking hell was Alfred doing with _Matthew?!_

Arthur made a slight choking sound in his shock, causing Lovino to look at him with a frown. "The fuck is up with you?"

"Alfred's dating Matthew?!" His disbelief made it into a question, and he continued to stare open-mouthed at the couple across the room. "It never crossed my mind that he could even _know _Matthew!"

"Who the fuck is Matthew?" Lovino was glancing around, trying to pinpoint where Arthur was looking.

Arthur had paled, looking away from the laughing American and his Canadian date. He pointed discreetly in the table's direction. "Matthew is a friend of mine from Quebec," he explained quietly. "He's a very kind lad, tends to be ignored because he's so quiet." Arthur's chest gave a painful squeeze and his shoulders slumped.

Matthew was one of the sweetest people the Brit knew, and the knowledge that Alfred was apparently interested in him hurt worse than he thought it should. Arthur knew he could never be jealous of Matthew, because Matthew deserved the very best, and in Arthur's opinion, Alfred was the best.

"Ah." Arthur felt the Italian's eyes watching him, but nothing further was said.

The two remained quiet as the waiter eventually came back with their food, as well as drink refills and another basket of breadsticks. The soup set before Arthur smelled delicious, and the taste when he ate a spoonful was beyond excellent. The creamy texture was smooth, and the flavor was full and rich. He dipped in a breadstick, and he was amazed how much better everything was mixed together.

But food, no matter how savory, couldn't distract his mind for long, and Arthur found himself glancing over to the American's table more often than he would have liked.

He was nearly finished with his meal when another face, this one tanned with dark hair and green eyes, caught his attention from right behind Lovino. Arthur blinked yet again as Antonio laughed heartily at something his date – a lovely lady with dark curls – was saying, her smile bright and flirty.

What was up with everyone and choosing that particular restaurant for Valentine's Day?

"Ah, Lovino?"

"Hm?" The Italian looked up at him from his food, a noodle being slurped into his mouth.

Arthur bit his lip, gesturing behind Lovino with his spoon. "Did you know he was coming here tonight?" he asked uncertainly.

Lovino frowned, looking over his shoulder to see what the Brit was talking about before whipping back around, eyes wide and panicked. "No fucking way."

Arthur let out an incredulous chuckle. "This place is more popular than we thought, huh?"

"No shit," Lovino mumbled, pushing the remainder of his pasta around his plate. "He'd said he was taking her somewhere I'd mentioned, but I hadn't thought it'd be fucking _here_."

"Yes, it is a bit of coincidence, isn't it?"

"You think?" Lovino sneered at the table, but Arthur could see the sadness in his eyes.

Arthur let the ensuing silence linger for a moment, thinking to himself. Eventually, his curiosity overtook. "Who's the lady he's with?" he asked.

Lovino glanced behind himself again, more of a knee-jerk reaction than actually to see who Arthur was talking about. "That's Bella," he replied, rolling his eyes. "She's a friend from high school that's had this fucking huge-ass crush on him for like, fucking ever." The Italian scoffed. "Not that he can see that. Oblivious tomato-loving bastard."

Arthur sniffed, looking bemused towards the laughing Spaniard. "Yes, quite," he agreed. "Does he return the feeling?"

"I fucking hope not." Lovino glared at him. "But I don't know."

Arthur flinched. "Sorry."

The Italian just shrugged. "Whatever. I personally think she's a fucking whore that's just there to use him, but maybe I'm just biased."

"Oh, you are most definitely biased," Arthur agreed, winking. "You like him; it's not uncommon to think so low of her because of that."

"Still," he sighed. "I just –"

"Come on, Toni~ Can't you, please?"

Lovino cut off, both him and Arthur looking up at the couple at the table next to theirs as discreetly as they could. Bella was leaning towards the Spaniard, who looked slightly panicked as was leaning away from his date, trying to keep their faces apart.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he was saying, smiling apologetically. "I-I can't –"

"Pleeeeease~?" she pleaded, batting her lashes what Arthur assumed was supposed to be seductively, but it just came across slightly desperate. "Why can't you?"

"I'm really sorry!" The Spaniard was looking so lost and helpless. "I promised Lovi –"

She backed off at the Italian's name, pouting with a huff and crossing her arms. "Jeez, Antonio!" she complained. "It's always about that Italian brat! You're always, 'Lovi this' and 'Lovi that'; what's so special about him, anyways?" She snorted, rolling her eyes. "I don't see why you hang out with such a useless little shit."

Arthur glanced at Lovino out of the corner of his eye, seeing the Italian freeze at the insults. He was about to stand to comfort him when a loud _thump _came from the Spaniard's table, and Arthur whipped his head around to see that Antonio had hit the table, his face dark and his eyes burning.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about my Lovi that way!" he said, the venom in his voice seething. "Lovino is much more special than you know!"

Bella flinched back, not expecting his vehemence. Her wide eyes stared at him for a second before she let a short chuckle out. "Please. All he ever does is laze around and yell at people! When was the last time he said anything nice to you, hm?" She smirked when Antonio didn't answer right away, and Arthur noticed Lovino flinch. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You deserve someone better, Toni~" She reached her hand out, resting it on his clenched fist on the table. "Someone who appreciates you and loves you."

Antonio retracts his hand like hers burned him, glaring at her. "To insinuate that you could possibly love me any more than my Lovi is a disgusting joke."

Bella jolted in shock at his words, sneering at the Spaniard. "That brat being capable of love is the joke here."

At that moment, Lovino jumped out of his chair and walked over to the table, a fire in his eyes as he rounded on the young woman. Arthur stood up, but stayed where he was, worried about what the Italian might do, but still curious to see it play out.

"Who the fuck do you think you fucking are to tell me what I fucking am or am not capable of feeling?" he asked, his voice surprisingly level considering his anger. Arthur was impressed.

"Lovi~" Antonio smiled hugely, jumping up to embrace the fuming Italian. "_Mi tomate, _I didn't know you were here~!"

Lovino continued to glare at the stunned woman still sitting at the table, ignoring the man now hanging off of him. "I've loved Antonio since I fucking met him," he continued, looking directly into her eyes. "He's the only one who's ever thought I was worth something, who saw through all my bullshit and cussing and insults to the real me, the me that's self-conscious and insecure because all my fucking life I've been compared to my little brother. He means more to me than anything or anyone excluding Feliciano, so don't you fucking dare try to say I'm incapable of loving him."

Bella was frozen in her seat, unable to find any words. Arthur thought she looked scared shitless. He knew he would be.

About that time, Arthur glanced around at the rest of the restaurant, many of the closer tables having frozen and turned to see the drama that was taking place next to them. Many mouths were gaping, eyes wide and expressions uncomfortable at the foul language and angry tones of voice being used. Arthur could sympathize; it was always awkward to listen to strangers argue, especially about something so personal.

Antonio was staring at Lovino with wide eyes sparkling with happiness. "L-Lovi…"

Lovino was flushing red as his own words sunk in during the pause in his argument, crossing his arms over his chest like he did when he was uncomfortable, but he remained where he was standing, letting Antonio's arms stay around him and even leaning back into the Spaniard.

"Do you mean it?" Antonio asked quietly, turning Lovino to face him. "Do you really…?"

The Italian rolled his eyes, looking away. "You think I would be standing here arguing about it if I didn't? You're more of an idiot than I thought."

Antonio laughed and pulled him close, hugging him tightly. "I'm so happy, Lovi~!" He turned the Italian's red face to his, smiling softly. "_Te amo, mi tomate~_" he cooed. "_Feliz San Valentin_~"

If Lovino hadn't already been fully blushing, that definitely would have done the trick. "_B-__Buon San Valentino, _bastard," he mumbled, looking down. "_Ti amo anche._"

Nearly the entire room erupted in a happy chorus of "aww" at the confessions, cheering happily when Antonio pressed his lips to Lovino's and kissed him deeply, nearly bending him over backwards in his enthusiasm. Not that the Italian was complaining; Arthur could see him practically pulling the Spaniard into him by his collar. The Brit smiled for his friend, glad that at least one of them was truly having a happy Valentine's Day.

Arthur sat back down, welcoming Antonio to his and Lovino's table after the Spaniard had left payment for his and Bella's meal on his own table, the young woman having been near tears as she ran out of the restaurant after the confessions and kiss. The Brit and Italian finished their meals contentedly, leaving a their tip for the waiter as they left.

Roma was totally unsurprised to see Antonio with Lovino.

When they arrived back at the dorms after Roma had dropped them off, Lovino turned to Arthur as Antonio bounded onward, heading to the elevators ahead of them. "Thanks for tonight," he said. "I had fun."

"Anytime," Arthur replied, smiling. "I'm glad it worked out for one of us." But he still couldn't be jealous of Matthew.

Lovino nodded, looking at Antonio. "Yeah. Me, too." He glanced over at Arthur. "And hey, maybe it won't work out between the burger-idiot and that quiet guy," he pointed out with a shrug. "You never know; maybe you'll still have a shot."

Arthur grinned, nodding. "Perhaps. I can always dream, right?"

They caught up to the Spaniard, taking the lift up to Lovino's floor, him and Antonio exiting with a wave to the Briton. Arthur waved back as the doors slid closed again, leaning up against the wall as it brought him to his floor. He slunk off the lift as the doors opened again, sighing as he made his way to his room and pulled out his card and shoved the door open.

"Heya, Artie!" Arthur was greeted by the happy voice of Alfred as he entered the room, kicking his shoes off as he made his way to his bed. "How was your night?"

Arthur sighed contentedly as he fell onto his bed, breathing in the familiar detergent scent. "It was nice," he said, adjusting himself to better face the American. "Dinner was excellent; I've never had a soup so well prepared." He looked at the blond. "How was your night?"

Alfred hummed in acknowledgement, crossing his legs and leaning on his elbows. "Mine was great!" he exclaimed, a big smile on his face. "My food was awesome as well, and there was even a big argument that broke out between a couple of the customers at the restaurant!" Alfred paused. "I think it was that Italian guy, Lovino or something. He looked pretty pissed at that girl. Poor Toni got stuck in the middle, man."

Arthur frowned slightly. "Yes, I was there," he said, resting his chin against the backs of his hands. "The lady had been insulting Lovino; he simply defended himself like he's prone to do."

"You were there?" Alfred asked, eyebrows furrowing in thought. "I didn't see you, dude! Who'd you go with?"

"I was there with Lovino."

Alfred looked even more confused. "I thought him and Toni got together? What'd he do, break up with you right there?"

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes. "We weren't dating, you git," he said, leveling a look at the American. "He'd suggested we go to dinner together because Antonio had already had a date – as you saw – and I was alone for the night as well." He paused, wondering if he should add on, then decided _what the hell? _"I suppose you could say we were both having guy problems in the form that our respective crushes were already going out with another, so we thought that doing something together was better than sitting in the dorms alone."

"You have a crush?"

Was it just him, or did Alfred sound disappointed? "Don't we all at some point?" he asked back instead.

Alfred just shrugged noncommittally. "I guess. I was just curious."

Arthur thought he seemed more curious than usual, but brushed it off. "At any rate," he ventured after a moment of silence, "I wish you luck with your new boyfriend." Arthur almost choked on the word, grimacing as he thought it, but managing to force it out. He wasn't going to be jealous of Matthew! He couldn't be! "He's a sweet lad, so you better not hurt him." If he couldn't have Alfred, he was sure as hell going to make sure he was worthy of Matthew.

"Huh?" Alfred looked confused. "My boyfriend?"

"The lad with you on your date tonight?" Arthur stared at Alfred curiously. He couldn't be _that _forgetful!

"Who, Mattie?" Alfred let out a chuckle, gazing at Arthur with a soft expression. "Dude, Mattie's not my boyfriend! He's not even gay – has a girlfriend and everything!"

Arthur was taken aback. "What? Then what is he to you? Why did you take him out?" He also couldn't help but note the fluttering in his chest at the thought that Alfred was still free for the taking. _He doesn't have a boyfriend! He's not dating Matthew! You still have a chance! _

Alfred leaned back against his headboard, looking over at Arthur. "I took him out because this was the first time I met him," he explained, smiling goofily. "He'd called and said he was going to be in town this weekend, so I said we should get together."

Arthur waited, but he didn't continue. "That still doesn't explain what he is to you."

Alfred looked into his eyes, the blue sparkling in the lamplight. "Dude, Mattie's my little brother."

* * *

**_Alfred being curious about Arthur? What could it possibly mean?! *sarcasm*_**

**_Also, shameless use of the EngMano pairing because fuck it, I'm the author. Don't worry, since Lovi's with Toni now, that means more development of Alfred and Arthur. I suck at development, can you tell? ;A; _**

**_I apologize for the complete disorganization of this chapter. I was seriously at a loss for how to get from point A to point B, so I just started writing in chunks and even to me it seems awful. I may go back and edit it at some point, but it's too long right now and I just wanted to get it up. (-_-") I have not read over it, so I have no idea what's even going on. _**

**_Time for round two: give me TWO COMPLETE SENTENCE-reviews telling me what you liked and what totally didn't jam for you; you have no idea how much your criticism means to me. It's a boost to get things written and get them written well (or better than this piece of shit chapter). Because I only got one answer back for a reward fic, I'm going to go ahead and bribe you with the promise of a fic starring the pairing of your choice from any of the fandoms I'm willing to write, any genre, any setting. _**

**_Let me know what you think! _**

**_Much love, guys. :3_**

**_~GarryxMrChairFan_**


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